Maybe It's More
by UmmTaylor
Summary: When Katie learns that her exfiancee is to be the best man in her sister's wedding, she goes through drastic measures to get the perfect date. OWKB
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: Well…unfortunately…I just didn't think this up first…**

**A/n: PLEASE R&R!**

_For Amy, The one with the Amazing Spirit_

**Chapter One: The One with the Wedding Date**

I've always been, and most likely, always will be the wrinkle in the tablecloth. What I mean is that I will never live up to my family expectations. You see, I am the oldest of the Bell sisters, and yet my name remains Katie Bell. However, the name my youngest sister, Melanie, receives on her postage is no longer Melanie Bell, but Melanie Reiss. Of course, it wasn't such a sob story when my youngest sister married before I did, we had all known she'd be first. That was who she was. Still, I was expected to marry second, and as you can see, that is not the case. You can call me the screw-up. I almost fulfilled my family expectations once, but you can guess how well that turned out. At the time, it didn't phase me so much.

Of course, I was heartbroken at the sudden halt in my engagement, only two weeks before the wedding. Though, I had still supposed that I would marry before my middle sister, Samantha.

That was two years ago.

I hate to be the bitter sister, but you'll have to understand receiving an invitation to my sisters' wedding by mail from _Australia_ was rather upsetting. Only because my sister was marrying a lifetime friend, Thomas Coones…who was best friends with another lifetime friend, Roger Davies. This may sound ironic, but that's only because it isn't. Roger was once my so-called fiancé, you know, the one I was supposed to be married to. I could just imagine that smug little smirk on his lips when I arrived at the wedding without a date. Single. Lonely.

I glared at the envelope, with all its pretty calligraphy and little embossed silver roses. It was such a beautiful little bit of parchment, I almost felt bad for wishing I could burn it. I made a sound of indignation as I stood up from my couch and stomped into my kitchen, tucking a stray strand of strawberry blonde hair out of my eyes.

My eyes fell upon my reflection. That's another thing I've failed miserably on. Being the pretty sister. I'm not the beautiful sister, I'm not the smart sister. No, I'm Katie. Katie, the average-looking sister who lives in an average-looking house in average-looking suburbia. Samantha was the pretty sister. The little vivacious blonde who always got what she wanted; but then again, she always wanted everything.

Meredith, who I have failed to mention simply because she's my least favorite of my sisters, was the smart sister. Meredith had always been a brain, and a cute girl at that. Cool blue eyes, stock-straight straw-colored hair, not to mention the perfect amount of freckles on her nose. She was a year younger than Samantha, but I never actually count her in the line up. There's a strict family line-up rule. You are nice to Katie and Katie is nice to you.

Now Melanie was the one with all the personality. She was bright as day and optimistic, loud, and crazy. That's what the guys go for though. The psycho. They're all married. Hell, even my brother is married. Blake is older than I am, but I guess I can count him.

I sighed loudly, flipping the mirror over so that I could only see the back of it. Much better. Just hide the boringness. I'm bland. My hair is bland. My eyes are brown. My teeth are pretty, but my siblings' teeth always seem to be just one shade whiter. My nose is a bit too long. I have no personality. What did I get? An undeserved kick in the pants, that's what I think. God has always held something against me.

It's all because I defied tradition. It's because I'm an oddball. Because I hate reading, I hate writing, I hate shopping, I hate make-up. I love Quidditch. I love crude jokes. I love watching people fall. I love food. I love sitting on my bum. That's why God hates me. I'm a disgrace to humanity.

I'm not skinny like everyone else. I'm average. Did I mention Average just about sums me up? I didn't graduate with honors and I don't have any trophies. I have a couple scars on my legs and a dog. What I find utterly hilarious is that Scooter, my dog, gets more attention than I do. Scooter has got it made, if you ask me. He doesn't have to worry about his family forgetting his birthday. He doesn't have anything to be ashamed of. He can pee wherever he wants and all he gets is a little laugh and then sent to take a nap while I clean up his mess.

Not that I'm jealous of my dog. Even if I was, you have no proof. What a silly thing to even assume! Jealous of my dog…yeah…that's me. Katie Bell: Jealous of Scooter the dog.

"Scooter!"

So speak of the devil…

I giggled at my silly little dog as he jumped up and down, licking my legs. Even my voice is off. It's all raspy. I sound like I have a permanent chest-cold. I have the cutest little dog. I found him on the side of the road and, naturally, brought him home. He loves me. He's my back-up plan. If I never get married, I'll still have Scooter. _He_ doesn't treat me different! Scooter loves me no matter what!

"Scoot! Scooter! Come back! Where are you going?" I called out, stomping my foot as Scooter bounded out of the kitchen. So much for loyal companion.

I flinched when I heard something come to a crash in the living room. Dumb dog. I ruffled my hair as I came out of the kitchen. I have no manners, just so you know. When I'm alone, I go all out. Stained tee-shirt and faded flannel pajama pants. Of course, this is usually when someone chooses to come on over.

"Ew! Katie! This place is a sty!"

See what I mean? I blushed, dropping my hand from my hair and grinning at my best friend, Oliver Wood.

"I've been busy! You try cleaning on my schedule!" I replied, sticking my nose up. Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sure. So busy you had time to leave me ten messages on my work phone?"

I stuck my tongue out rudely, because I am so mature. My best friend…what can I tell you about Oliver? Well, he's Scottish and hot. There you go.

"Those messages were very important!"

"Uhuh. Telling me every detail of your bloody dreams must be so important," Oliver scoffed, bending down and picking up a few tossed-aside articles of clothing.

"It was!" I defended. It was important to me! Work is boring and I had nothing else to do!

"Tell me, Katie, where is the importance in a dream you had about pulling your bras out of a dryer?"

"They weren't just my bras, Oliver. They were hooked together and all different colors."

Oliver glanced up at me incredulously. Oh Oliver…you have no idea how hot you are…

"What are you eating before you go to bed? New rule. No food after nine."

"I'm not eating anything! Just a cookie! But that doesn't count!" I said quickly, giggling.

Oliver scrunched up his nose, gagging. It took me a moment to realize he had just put his foot in last night's dinner. Maybe I should stop leaving plates on the floor. I would have cleaned it myself…but I seemed to have misplaced my wand. Grunting, Oliver cleaned off his foot, picking up the plate and walking briskly to the kitchen.

"Katie, this is disgusting! In the time you spend leaving me messages about your magically colored bras, you could have this whole house cleaned! You're a witch, for Merlin's sake!" Oliver pointed out, turning on the hot water tap. I felt my ears turn red. I hadn't seen my wand for almost two weeks.

"Where's your wand?"

"Uh…well…I lost it!" I said as though it was no big deal. Oliver ran a tired hand through his thick chestnut-colored hair, shaking his head.

"You are unbelievable," he murmured, turning off the water.

"Who invited you in?" I demanded, growing rather irritated with my friend. Like I didn't know that already!

"I don't need an invitation. This is like my house," Oliver replied, yawning softly. It was true. He even had his own small little space in my closet.

"Yeah, well, that can change!"

"What? The house? You can't find your wand. I don't know if you should try remodeling without it…"

I made an indignant noise, glaring at Oliver. He glared right back, his pretty green eyes boring into mine.

"Well, who died and made you Merlin?" I demanded, strutting out of the kitchen moodily. Oliver followed.

"Oh…I'm sorry…was that your comeback?"

"Hey! You can't use the word comeback inside of your comeback!" I snapped, jabbing an accusative finger at Oliver's chest. I swear, someday my finger is going to break right off. He's got the best body out of anyone I know.

"Don't hurt yourself trying to think of a comeback, Katie. I completely understand it's a tough thing to do and it requires skills," Oliver chuckled, grinning at the look of aggravation on my face.

"You are just full of it, aren't you?"

"Full of what? Be specific."

"Just help me clean up!" I ordered, punching him playfully in the arm. Honest to God, I think it hurts my hand more than his arm.

Oliver and I then began the grueling task of picking things up around my apartment.

"Hey, Katie! This picture won't hang!" Oliver said sometime later, struggling to hang up a framed photo of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Just get the tack in the hole!" I said, busy scrubbing my table.  
"It won't go in!"

"Yeah, you're screwed if you can't get it in the hole," I called back. I'd just hang it up later.

"…But...if you get it in the hole aren't you screwed?"

I paused a moment, my mind chewing thoughtfully on his words. My eyes widened like saucers.

"Oliver!" I gasped, gaping at my friend, who was grinning like we had just won the House Cup all over again. "You little pervert!"

"Little?" Oliver asked curiously, dropping the picture and walking towards me. I shook my head, screaming and dashing towards the couch. Too late. I was trapped. Before I knew it, I was giggling madly as Oliver tickled me.

"You smell like Strawberries," I acknowledged after Oliver had released me. Oliver tilted his head.

"You smell like you need a bath."

I grimaced, rolling my eyes haughtily.

"Bugger off," I snapped, standing up and striding into my bedroom. Oliver followed me, plopping down on my bed. I glanced over my shoulder.

"I'm going to undress. Do you mind?"

"Nope," Oliver yawned, falling back into my sheets and closing his eyes. I smiled faintly, gathering up my bathrobe and walking into my bathroom, shutting the door.

When I came out of my shower several minutes later (after trying vainly to come up with a solution to finding a date for my sister's wedding) Oliver was still lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I gasped quietly, staring at his abdomen which was peaking out from between the waistline of his jeans and the hem of his long-sleeved tee-shirt, which had ridden up a bit. He was so toned! It wasn't fair.

"Thirty four," Oliver said suddenly. I raised an eyebrow.

"Thirty four what?"

"Thirty four tiles on your ceiling."

I blinked, and sure enough, I glanced up and began counting the tiles. Typical me. I still needed a date for the wedding. I couldn't show up alone, I'd die. My dignity was all I had left.

"So Samantha's getting married?"

"Yeah," I said distractedly, still thinking over the problem at hand. Maybe I could hire a date. That's what Oliver does for Puddlemere United parties…

"We should go on vacation, you and I! We're becoming hermits. I have a cousin in Sydney…"

I ignored Oliver. Who could I ask?

"Maybe we could go next week. Wait, when's Sammy's wedding?"

"Next week," I answered automatically.

"Damn, Sydney would've been so nice! I've always wanted to go to Australia," Oliver rambled. I wished he would just shut up a moment. "My cousin got married in Sydney, but I couldn't miss the Quidditch Finals…"

"Ollie, I love you, but could you shut up a minute? I'm trying to figure out what to do here!"

"About what?"

"Sam's wedding!" I answered impatiently. He's so dense sometimes.

"Oh! Is she having it here?"

"No! In Sydney!"

Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"What about the wedding can you not figure out? You go, you smile and look pretty."

"I need a da- Oliver!"

"What?" Oliver asked, glancing around curiously.

"You!"

"Yes…me…" Oliver mocked, gasping.

"You can be my date!" I said excitedly. Why hadn't I thought of it before? He was perfect! Roger also hated Oliver with a burning passion. Who better to show that asshole just what he was missing?

"Your date for what?" Oliver said.

"The wedding!"

"What wedding?"

"Sam's!" I bellowed, throwing my hands up. Whoops…dropped the towel. I quickly dived for it, wrapping it around myself again. I didn't really mind. Oliver and I were past the blushing. We'd been friends too long to care.

"You want me to date you? For your sister's wedding? Wait!" Oliver said suspiciously, "Isn't Sam's lover best friends with Roger?"

I shuffled my feet. So what? It wasn't my fault he deserved it!

"He's not her lover, Oliver. He's her fiancée!" I pointed out, changing the subject.

"Same thing. You didn't answer me, Katelyn. Isn't What's-his-face best friend with Roger?"

"Don't call me Katelyn! And yes, okay! Yes! Tom is friends with Roger!" I said exasperatedly, pulling a light blue jumper over my head.

"So how much are you going to pay me to give Roger what's coming to him?" Oliver asked casually, sitting up and folding his arms. I gaped at my so-called best friend.

"I'm not paying you Squat! Your payment is taking me to my sister's wedding, Oliver James Wood," I replied saucily, making careful usage of Oliver's full name.

"Well then, God have mercy on me, No way. I'm not getting all cozy with you without something in it for me!"

"You are a shallow friend, Oliver!"

"Am not. You're shallow! You want me to lie to your whole family and charade like we're going steady or something, just to get back at Roger Davies!" Oliver snapped. He sounded almost as though I had hurt his feelings.

"Oh come on! You hate Roger!"

"So? I hate seafood too, but I'm not going into a Seafood restaurant and eating a hamburger," Oliver said rationally.

"…What's with the analogy?"

"It was the first thing that came to mind."

"Oliver, please do this for me!" I begged, kneeling down and folding my hands pathetically. Oliver sighed.

"Alright then. When do we leave?"

I trapped my lifetime best friend in a tight embrace.

"Monday! Thank you so much, Oliver. You have no idea how much this means to me!" I said gratefully, climbing up on his lap and plopping myself down. He sighed.

"Just promise me one thing. Don't fall in love with me, alright?"

I smiled awkwardly. He was such a weird one.

"I promise," I laughed, hugging him again. He frowned.

"Promise me, for real."

"I promise Oliver!" I said again, rolling my eyes.

"Do you pinky promise?"

"You are the biggest weirdo that I know. Yes, I thumb promise if it makes you feel better," I grinned, dragging my friend up by the arm. "We have to get you a nice suit for the rehearsal dinner."

"Kates…you smell like peaches," Oliver grinned, and I giggled as we apparated out of my apartment.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two: The One with Katie's Sister**

"Can't you just make an exception? All we want is seats next to one another!" I said. This is why I hate airline attendants. They are so frustrating!

"I'm sorry ma'am, but it's against our policies. I can't switch your seats, but if you'd like you may purchase new seats," the flight attendant said cheerfully, smiling at us. Oliver narrowed his eyes at her.

"How much will it cost to get us new seats?" he growled, adjusting the shoulder strap on his messenger bag. The woman began typing loudly.

"Seven hundred and fifty Pounds," she said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"For both of us?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. The woman tilted her head.

"No, Seven hundred and fifty Pounds each!"

"Are you fucking serious?" Oliver bellowed, drawing the attention of several flyers around him.

"Sir, I'm going to ask you to calm down," the woman said, that sickening sweetness not leavings her voice.

"Come on Katie. Let's go," Oliver snapped, grabbing my arm and leading me out of line. So much for First Class! Who knew who I could end up sitting by!

Several minutes later, I found myself sitting in first class, with Oliver nowhere in sight. I sighed, hoping beyond hope he would be as lucky as I was.

**Meanwhile…**

Oliver sighed himself, glancing around first class as though it was the last place he'd want to be. Hopefully the seat next to him would remain empty. Oliver shuddered, picturing the worst kind of passenger to sit by. An old friend. An overweight lesbian. Oliver grimaced, pulling his headphones over his ears. At least one thing was going right. He had remembered his favorite CD.

"Scotty Doesn't Know!" chorused through Oliver's ears, and the young man felt very relaxed. He was just being paranoid.

"Excuse me, sir? Is this seat 14B?"

Well…so much for that.

Oliver opened one eye, and just about climbed up his seat. No. This could not be happening to him.

"Wood?"

"…I—Flint?"

"Oliver! Long time no see!" Marcus Flint said excitedly, throwing a large bear hug on Oliver. Oliver's eyes widened.

"Uh…"

"So, tell me, what have you been up to? Besides Puddlemere United, I mean!"

It didn't make any sense. Oliver hated Marcus…and vice versa, as far as he knew!

"Are you sure that this is your seat?" Oliver laughed nervously, snatching Marcus's ticked out of his hand. To Oliver's horror, the ticket clearly read: 15B.

"Oh my God! Scotty doesn't know! That song is so hot! Have you seen the…"

Oliver tuned out Marcus. What was he saying? Something about Scotland?

"So have you noticed that Harry Potter looks like a God in leather? He was on the cover of Witch Weekly Last week and I just had to save it because it is like the hottest thing--."

Oliver closed is eyes shut, trying to drown out the horror that sat beside him. After a moment, without realizing he had done so, Oliver Wood had fallen asleep.

Row C… 

I sighed contentedly, sipping slowly at my Champagne. This was the life for a little old city-girl like me. Champagne and chocolates. Plus, as it turned out, I did have a passenger beside me, and I still couldn't believe it. I was sitting next to the lead singer of the Weird Sisters, and we were having the greatest discussion about the bands big hit: Scotty Doesn't Know. As it turns out, the band stole the song from a muggle group. Interesting, huh?

"So why are you flying to Sydney?" I asked curiously, stuffing a piece of dark chocolate in my mouth. Iggy, the lead singer, smiled thoughtfully, puffing a strand of loose lime colored hair out of his eyes.

"I'm singing at a Wedding," he replied, and I chuckled.

"Sweet!" I answered, wondering what Oliver was up to.

**Row B…**

Oliver's eyes fluttered open, wide with shock. How had he fallen asleep? Oliver felt surprisingly warm as he looked around the plane. It seemed most of the passengers had taken a rest. Sighing, the young Scot snuggled with his pillow. Why was his pillow so prickly? Oliver glanced up, before literally climbing up his seat. Marcus was leaning on Oliver's shoulder, his lips close to Oliver's neck. Too close for comfort. Oliver noted that Marcus' hand was on his knee as well.

"What the hell are you doing?" Oliver demanded, his voice cracking. Marcus smiled warmly.

"Champagne, Ollie Wollie?"

"No! No Ollie Wollie! No Champagne! No!" Oliver bellowed, awakening a baby a row up from him.

"Ollie, baby, you're waking up the children," Marcus said, holding out a glass to Oliver. Oliver shook his head, sitting as close to the wall as he could, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Bugger off," Oliver said, swallowing thickly, scooting back, though his back was already pressed flat against the wall.

"Ollie Bear! We're on a plane!" Marcus giggled, licking his lips. Oliver felt the contents of his stomach rise into his throat.

"I have to use the restroom," Oliver gagged, jumping up and scrambling past Marcus, but not before Marcus had playfully grabbed his bum. Oliver stiffened considerably, before sprinting down the hall to the bathrooms. He glanced back at his seating, paling. Marcus was walking confidently towards the restrooms, his eyes dark. Oliver sped up, grabbing hold of the handle to the loo. Occupied. No! This was not happening to him! Oliver clawed at the other doors. Occupied. Occupied. Occupied. Oliver let loose a frustrated groan, before one of the doors suddenly swung open.

"Oliver?" I asked curiously. Oliver wasted no time in clasping my wrist and pummeling me back into the toilet. I raised an eyebrow as he hurriedly locked the door.

"Are you okay? You look flushed," I said, hugging my friend.

"I'm being hunted down by a deranged homosexual lunatic!" Oliver cried, sobbing onto my shoulder. I was a little lost on what on earth he was talking about, until I opened the door, of course.

--

"You sure you're alright, Oliver?" I asked again, rubbing my friend's back soothingly. Oliver was shaking from head to toe, shoving his way off the plane. After opening the door of the toilets…lets just say Flint won't be walking straight for a very long time.

"He touched me," Oliver muttered, sounding more traumatized than the day we lost to Hufflepuff.

"Honey, it's alright! It was only your knee!" I pointed out as we got into a cab. Oliver nodded slowly, still holding onto my arm.

"I feel violated. And not like Fred and George violated you. I mean _violated_," Oliver whispered, bringing to mind an incident in which each of the twins had grabbed one of my breasts.

"Oh get over it you Drama Queen!" I giggled, smacking him in the arm. Oliver beamed back, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Aye. You two are a beautiful couple," said the taxicab driver in a thick Aussie accent, winking at us. I hesitated, glancing at Oliver. He gaped at me. Real helpful.

"Erm…thanks!" I said awkwardly.

"Any day. You native?"

"No, I'm here for a wedding," I replied warmly, smiling at the man. He nodded thoughtfully, giving me another wink.

"You two tying the knot, then?" he said conversationally. For some reason, this assumption made me blush, and I rarely blush. Oliver's cheeks felt warm against my shoulder.

"Oh, no! It's my sister's wedding!" I said hastily, biting my lip. The driver raised an eyebrow.

"Shame. You two look like regular soul mates," the driver said casually.

"No, we're just friends," Oliver said, forgetting that I had already mentioned us being a couple. The driver stared at Oliver curiously. "I-I mean we are! But we are just friends…I mean…that's what love is all about, right?"

The driver nodded, though I could have sworn I heard a mumbled 'Americans' in there. I narrowed my eyes, feeling no sympathy for our driver any longer.

"We're Brits," I corrected, glaring at the man.

"Actually, I'm a Scot," Oliver corrected me, glaring at the man as well.

"Right. This is your stop," the driver said gruffly. Oliver and I got out gratefully, glad to be away from the rude driver. Rude and embarrassing.

"Shit! Oliver! You can't wear that tie!" I shrieked, noticing Oliver's red tie all of a sudden. Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

"I'm wearing red!" I bellowed, as though it was obvious. Which it was. Oliver sighed loudly. "Here, I have an extra I brought just in case," I said, shoving a black tie in his hand.

"What's the big deal?" he whined, stomping his foot.

"We have to look like we're trying. But not trying hard!"

"You crazy bitch," Oliver murmured. I fund he calls me that quite often. So what if it's true?

"Oliver! You don't understand my family! They fell on quills as babies and now they are all lodged up their asses!" I squealed, my eyes wide and pleading.

"Fine," Oliver grunted, pulling off his tie and putting on the black one. I smiled.

"Oh, and Oliver. I have to warn you. You know those families where everyone's crazy, but at the end of the day they're your family so you love them?" I muttered as we walked through the doors of the Summer House. Oliver grinned. "My family isn't like that," I said sharply, jerking Oliver through the door.

"I like my dad," I went on nervously, chewing a hole through my lip. Would we be able to pull it off? Would Roger be there? "But he's my step dad. He's not family. He's more like a Hostage."

"Katie, are you okay?"

"Do you have Alcohol?" I asked suddenly, stopping in my tracks. Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"All I have is Nyquil-."

I snatched the bottle out of Oliver's bag, popping the cap off and downing half the bottle.

"Kitty?" I heard someone shriek. I glanced up from the Nyquil at my sister, Samantha. She was already running at me, closing me in a tight hug. "Kitty! My big sister!" she giggled, sounding ever the more like a baby. "Can you believe I'm getting married?"

"Shocked," I said, feigning excitement.

"And before you? How lucky am I?"

I stared at my sister. Bitch! This is why I hate her.

"Oooh! Who's the hunky hunky? He's cute! How'd you get him?" Samantha gasped, feeling Oliver's arm as she spoke. "He's hot!"

Oliver had turned a magical shade of magenta as my sister felt him up. I gagged behind her back, causing Oliver to chuckle.

"So where's the groom?" I asked, changing the subject. My sister seemed puzzled a moment, before her grin brightened.

"Oh! Tommy! Baby! Did you get my drink?" she hollered, signaling to a handsome man across the room of people. Family for the most part.

"Got it, Sammy!" he called back, eyes widening when he saw me, "K-mart!"

I snickered, remembering my childhood nickname as he rushed over, slopping my sister's liquor on the floor as he passed it off to her.

"Oof!" I grunted as he trapped me in a tight embrace.

"Hey, Tom!" I said enthusiastically. Oliver cleared his throat. "This is Oliver."

"Lucky bastard if I ever met one!" Tom smirked, shaking Oliver's hand. Oliver nodded, giving me a peck on the cheek. It took me a moment to remember that we were supposed to be a couple. I grinned darkly, throwing my arms over Oliver's neck and pulling him into a passionate kiss. I could feel my sister's eyes boring into the back of my head like lasers. She never did like me being better.

"Katie! Oliver!" my brother greeted, running to join us. His arm was thrown casually around the waist of a pretty Asian woman.

"Hey Blinky!" I said, hugging my brother before moving aside so Blake could shake hands with Oliver. "Melodie," I nodded to my brother's wife. She nodded back to me, though didn't say anything.

"Let's go to the bar!" my sister seethed, dragging her surprised fiancée to the bar across the room. Slowly, our party made our way over.

After we ordered drinks, we all sat around talking while Samantha and Thomas danced together. Samantha returned to the bar a moment later, just as I was about to take a sip of my drink.

"Can I have that?" she barked, a straw already posed between her lips. I sighed, setting my glass down and sliding it to her. It stopped a few inches from her straw. She pouted her lips, waiting for me to push it foreword, and I did. Like always. Samantha grinned at me, dropping her straw into the glass and taking a drink. Oliver had his nose scrunched up in disgust, and gladly handed me his drink, still staring disgustedly at my bitch sister.

"Hunky Dunky, would you mind getting me another?" Samantha asked sweetly, batting her lashes at Oliver. Oliver nodded, motioning for the bartender, who brought another round. Oliver held the glass out to Samantha, who, while Tom was in conversation with a friend, licked Oliver's hand and took the glass from him.

"Sammy, sweetie, your toy is over there. No touchy," I said, mimicking her baby-voice and placing a protective hand on Oliver's arm. The strange thing was I really was feeling as though Oliver was mine. He was my thing, not hers!

"Aww, Is ickle Katie a little Jealous? Don't worry, I won't touch your little Scottish pride and joy. That would be like stealing from the homeless. You only get one chance," she said, smiling at me before joining Tom on the dance floor.

"Can I have everyone's attention? Is this thing on?"

I glanced up from the drink Oliver had given me, my eyes widening at the sight of my mother.

"Oh God! Who gave that woman an amp?" I moaned, smacking my forehead on the bar.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" my Mother shouted, smacking the microphone against her palm, causing an ear-wrenching noise to emit from the speakers. "Oh good. Well, as you know, we are all here today in celebration of an engagement! My daughter Samantha to her lovely fiancée, Thomas! We welcome the Coones into our family! Though of course, we always expected to marry off Katie first," my mother said, and immediately my face fell.

"We almost succeeded once," my mother went on, and by this time I was feeling lower than cow-poo. "But of course, that crashed and burned…"

I slid back against Oliver, feeling as though I would much rather sink through him and disappear.

"Anyway, it's alright. We have our hopes…though if you ask me, she's not getting any younger."

"That's an understatement!" someone called out, and I recognized the voice as my sister, Meredith.

"Anyway, back to the bride and groom. We hope…"

By this time I had slid off my chair and was shoving my way out of the room, hanging my head.

Oliver was floored by my family's demeanor, and showed it as he sat stunned in his seat. He stood up suddenly, causing me to stop in my tracks.

"What is wrong with you people! Katie is your family!" he yelled. The silence in the room was almost deafening. I could feel eyes on my back as I stood, paralyzed, in the doorway.

"Excuse me, young man? Who might you be?" my mother asked in her rich British accent. I slowly turned my head, my hair falling loosely around my shoulders.

"I'm her Husband!" Oliver said. I gaped at him. Damnit! Why was he always so perfect?

"Katie isn't married!" Someone shouted. Yeah, Oliver! Nice going!

"Yes she is. I was curious as to why she didn't want her family around for our wedding. Now I know."

I hadn't moved from my spot in the doorway. I still stood there, staring at my savior as though I had never seen him before. The entire room was silent…

The rest of the party was a blur. All I remember were lots of drinks, apologies, and things like that. A bunch of bullshit. I was too delirious, to tell you the truth. Maybe it was the Nyquil.

* * *

**Sooo? How did I do? THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR REVIEWS! AND NO I WON'T KILL OLIVER!**


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three: The One about the Villa 

"Roger is like one big disaster. Did you see him? He wouldn't take his eyes off you…or his lips off his glass, for that matter," Oliver ranted, coaxing from me a small smile.

"Was he really looking at me?" I asked innocently, twirling a strand of my hair around my fingertips. Oliver nodded, loosening his tie as we sat in the car. I instinctively reached over and tugged at the knot, pulling it loose. Oliver doesn't have any nails to do it; he keeps them trimmed for Quidditch.

"Oi! No love-making in the backseat, mates!" said a very agitated looking taxi-driver…again.

"Damn. You caught us," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. Oliver grinned, reaching into his coat pocket and drawing out a pretty little blue box.

"Here," he said, handing me one of the most beautiful rings I had ever seen. It was a silver band; elegant and simple, with a large princess-cut diamond that glittered when it caught the light.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, taking the ring from him. "How did you...?"

"I got it before we came, just in case," Oliver replied, shrugging his shoulders. I felt a sudden appreciation for my Best friend, and I showed it, too! I gave him a playful punch in the arm and slid the ring on my finger.

"How do I look as 'Mrs. Oliver Wood'?" I asked dramatically, puffing out my lips. Oliver knitted his eyebrows, pretending to think.

"Like a million galleons," he said finally, punching me back. I giggled madly, finding the whole idea of being 'Mrs. Oliver Wood' completely unrealistic. But hey, if my family bought it.

"Oi! Driver! Turn up the radio!" Oliver said suddenly. Grudgingly, the driver obeyed. Oliver grinned wickedly, before bursting into song.

"Scotty doesn't know that Fiona and me do it in my Van every Sunday!"

I beamed, joining in without hesitation.

"She tells him she's at church, but she doesn't go! Still, she's on her knees and Scotty Doesn't Know!" we sang obnoxiously. Aren't we just Sunny and Cher?

"This is your stop…thank the Good Lord…" The taxi driver shouted as the small car pulled up in front of a rather cliché-looking mansion. I pursed my lips tightly, hating to even look at the villa which has once been my childhood home- with my mother, anyway. I had lived my life with my dad- my real dad, in England until his death when I was thirteen. I had put up a fight worthy of notation to stay at Hogwarts and had valiantly won the battle.

I stepped out of the car, my dress billowing against my legs as the breeze played with the hems around my knees. Several strands of my hair had fallen loose from the pretty up-do I had worn earlier, whipping at my cheeks as I stood on the wooden step. There were fifty of them, winding there way up the hillside to a pretty fence that surrounded a villa on the hill. Exactly fifty steps. I had spent my summers counting each step each time I would leave my home, one…two…three…

My mother said I was silly for counting; that the numbers never changed. It was true, the numbers would never change from fifty steps, but counting each of my steps had been something my father had taught me. Count each step you take in life so you'll always be able to count back. Stupid, really.

The house was perched elegantly on the hilltop, wild flowers of a hundred colors following the steps up to the black gates. The scent of the ocean filled my nostrils, the grains of salt and sand carrying with the wind causing my cheeks to become wind-worn and reddened. It was a dreary day- it usually was. The sun never seemed to find my mother's house.

"Katie?"

I tensed, feeling Oliver's rough fingertips on my bare shoulder. I smiled, turning to glance up at my friend over my shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Can we go in now?"

"Oh, of course!" I said, taking Oliver's arm and leading him up the steps. One…two…three…four…

"What are you counting?" Oliver asked, causing me to stop suddenly in my tracks.

"Steps," I replied, continuing my senseless counting in my head. The gate opened just as it always had. The door opened with a slight hesitation, just as it always had. The only difference in my childhood home was several more photographs lining the entrance hall and new carpet. I glanced solemnly over the photographs. Tom and Samantha; Blake and Melodie's wedding; Blake and Melodie with their daughter, Emaline; Blake graduating; Emaline and Jason, Blake's older son; All of us as kids; Meredith's wedding; Melanie's wedding; Samantha; Meredith graduating; Roger and I. I grimaced at this photograph. I looked too happy. My eyes trailed along the wall, falling upon a small-framed photograph on the hall table, almost hidden amongst several others. It was tiny, really. A tiny little picture of the Gryffindor House team winning the Cup. I suppose after my sibling's wedding portraits, the little victory in my sixth year at Hogwarts wasn't much.

"Lot's of old pictures of you. Not so many new," Oliver acknowledged, setting down a photo he had been examining. I shrugged.

"Not around so much. I try to avoid my family," I replied, leading the way up the stairs. I grinned as I opened the door to my bedroom; it was just how I had left it. The walls were still painted a rust color. My furniture was still dark cheery wood. My bed was still covered by a thick down comforter inside of an expensive gold and blue slip cover and covered with a million decorative rust, navy, and gold decorative cushions. Oliver smiled, dropping his bags neatly beside the door. I had already changed into jeans and a tee-shirt and fallen back onto my bed. I could hear Oliver walking curiously around my bedroom and I glanced over at him after several moments of staring at my ceiling.

My best friend had stopped in front of a large hanging picture taken twelve years before. It was Oliver and I, just after graduation. I was in a simple black dress, though perched in a very unladylike fashion on Oliver's back.

"I remember that," he said, beaming at me over his shoulder. "Back when I still had those godforsaken glasses."

I giggled at this memory.

"Oh please! All the girls in school thought you were gorgeous!"

"I believe you. I can even picture it: Golly gee, Oliver Wood sure is sexy, without his nerd lenses, you know," Oliver mocked, batting his eyelashes in a very feminine way.

"Oh God, you are such a liar. They were cute and you know it."

"Fine. They were dreadfully attractive, but not really."

I rolled my eyes at Oliver, now glasses free, as he sat down on my bed.

"Katie, you remember Christmas oh…last year…?"

I thought a moment, scraping my brain.

"When I proposed we move in together as roommates?" I asked, sitting up.

"Yeah. You still want to?" Oliver grinned, shoving me lightly.

"Are you going to make me be organized?" I said. Oliver laughed softly.

"To a degree, Miss Bell, to a degree."

I smiled softly, closing my eyes.

"I'd love to," I whispered. I could clearly imagine the smile that spread over Oliver's carefully anticipated features.

"I want to show you something," I said, opening my eyes and grabbing Oliver's arm. He stood obediently, and as soon as we had gotten down the steps I climbed onto his back, wrapping my legs around his middle.

"Oi! That's not fair," Oliver grunted, shifting me on his back and holding my thighs tightly.

"Is so," I giggled, grinning as Oliver's fingers grazed the hole in the knee of my jeans.

"Ho long have you had these?" he asked curiously, examining the worn out jeans that were my favorite pair. I leaned over his shoulder, my long strawberry-blonde hair cascading over his neck and arms. It was one thing I liked about my hair. It was naturally thick and smooth. My hair had been kept at a length around my elbows since I was a teenager, as no matter how else I styled it, anything shorter than the layers of thick hair around my elbows, or anything longer, appeared off.

"Since you gave them to me," I replied, yelping as Oliver spun around in a couple circles.

"I gave those to you?" Oliver asked curiously, twisting me around his side so that I was facing him, though still clinging to his body in piggy-back fashion.

"Yes!" I screamed as Oliver dropped me backwards, catching the small of my back just as I was about to hit the floor. I smiled lazily up at him as he pulled me back up.

"You're still light," Oliver announced, shifting me again so that my thighs rested unceremoniously on his hips.

"You're still strong."

"Katie, you remember what else I gave you with the pants?"

I frowned slightly, my eyes growing wide.

"Oliver, no! NO! Don't even!" I screeched as Oliver began making raspberries against my shoulder. "Stop! Oliver! That tickles! Stop!" I tried again, though my words were overpowered by my giggle fit.

"Merlin, you two are practically fornicating. Katie, darling, you have a bedroom," Meredith said flatly. I stopped giggling abruptly, sliding off of Oliver's middle.

"Don't you have a husband somewhere?" I snapped, holding Oliver's hand.

"I just came to pick up some of my things," Meredith smirked, taking a box that sat near the door. "Have…fun…"

I glared at my sister's retreating back, still clinging to Oliver's hand.


	4. Chapter Four

-1**Chapter Four: The One With The Kiss**

"Katie, don't you think that that dress is a little…inappropriate?" Oliver asked me, taking my arm in his.

"Nope," I replied miserably, pushing my sunglasses up over my eyes.

"Black? To a picnic…for your sister's wedding?"

"I think black is appropriate," I said stubbornly, grimacing as the clubhouse came into view. Day two of hell. Still had a headache. Still wanted to choke somebody. Still wanted to go home. Or disappear. Or anything, really.

"How so?"

"I'm in mourning," I said, frowning some more. Damn right I'm in mourning. I'm at my younger sister's wedding in Australia with my family.

"Mourning what, exactly?" Oliver asked curiously. I snorted, gripping his arm tighter.

"The loss of my dignity," I said flatly, leading Oliver around through the gate and into the pretty field by the river, where my mother was throwing a picnic for my sister. Sorry, not a picnic. A "Luncheon".

"Katie! You're late!" said my mother, hurrying over to me. I shrugged, looking around for the food. That's all I wanted, was something to eat. "Looking at little heavy, darling. I mean, honeymoon's over, got to lose those extra pounds--you did have a honeymoon, right?"

My face grew warm, and I almost gave my mother a piece of my mind.

"Costa Rica," Oliver said politely, smiling and putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Good heavens! The Jungle? Oh dear. You could be carrying disease!"

Leave it to my mother to turn a honeymoon into a trek through malaria infested Amazonian rainforests…

"Of course not, Mrs. Bell. I'd never put Katie in that kind of danger. She's my everything. Only the best. And that's what a give her. How could anyone expect less?"

Oliver Wood is a god, I swear. He's perfect. Absolutely wonderful.

"I see," my mother said, sounding disappointed. I smiled pleasantly to her retreating back.

"Honest to God, I do not understand your family," Oliver said, leading me to the refreshment table.

"I'd be concerned if you did," I said back. I'd be concerned if anyone understood my family.

"Afternoon, Katie! And Oliver," said my step father Bill as we approached the group.

"Hello Bill," I greeted, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Poor, poor Bill. Sometimes I wonder if he ever feels as though he made a mistake marrying my mom. And then I remember that he's not allowed to have opinions.

"Beautiful ring!"

"Thank you," I blushed, remembering the ring on my finger. It really was beautiful. Probably more expensive than Sam's ring…Not to be rude to Thomas. Because I like Thomas, I do. He's a nice guy.

"Lovely dress, as well," Bill laughed, examining my short black "only-for-funerals-oh,-and-my-sister's-wedding" dress.

"Just wanted to make sure I looked appropriate for the occasion," I said, winking. Bill laughed, patting my shoulder and moving along to mingle with some friends of his. I looked to Oliver to ask if he'd like a drink, only to find that my friend had disappeared.

"Oliver?" I called out, turning in a full circle. Where'd he go?

"You like punch, right?"

I jumped, turning to Oliver, surprised.

"You scared me," I breathed.

"Sorry," Oliver said, putting a drink in my hand.

"It's fine."

I glanced around, noticing that everyone but my sister and Thomas seemed to be present. Great. Family bonding. Woohoo.

"You look ill," Oliver said quietly.

"Do I?" I asked, emotionless.

"Fake it, if you have to. But come on, Katie. Show your family a little respect. Even if they are how they are."

"Fine," I agreed, unfolding my arms and forcing a smile onto my face. I hated this. Hated. This was stupid. And dumb. And stupid.

"Just have a drink, and relax, okay?"

"Okay."

I allowed Oliver to steer me to a seat, and we sat down beside one another. And I sipped at my drink, and he watched me, waiting for me to regain my composure.

"I don't want to be here," I grumbled. I ignored Oliver's agitated sigh. Was it my fault that my family was awful? Nope.

"You look haggard."

I groaned. You know why I looked haggard? Because my family made me haggard, that's why. Didn't he get it? I sat in silence, sipping at my drink. Sip. Yep.

The "Luncheon" was being hosted at the country club beside the river, and it was a lovely location. The grass was as green as grass gets, and well kept. And the water was clear and blue. And the day was lovely. Not a cloud in sight. There were flowers and trees and bees humming.

I hated it. I hated it all simply because I was being forced to be there. Forced to enjoy it. Or else maybe I would have.

I remembered when I was little me and my brother Blake used to go to the country club on Sundays with my mom and we'd go to the restaurant and order a ton of food. And put it all on my mother's tab, just because we could. And he'd always take the blame even though I usually ordered most of the food.

Blake is two years older than me, and really freakishly good looking. He's tall, and well built, with brown hair kept short and green eyes. He's got dimples, and the perfect smile. And a nice laugh. He was the musician in the family, really admirable. Blake's just great in general. The only person I ever felt I could really be myself around, besides the Quidditch team. He was my big brother. My best friend. My only friend, when I was around my family. My mother always seemed to find something to pick at, and my sister's were bitches. But my brother, he was a good guy. The type of brother any average, boring, boyish girl would want.

"Hey k-mart!"

I looked up at Thomas, grinning.

"Hey Tommy," I said enthusiastically, looking around for my sister. Nowhere in sight.

"Where's Sammy?" I asked, sounding much too alarmed.

"She's back at the car. She had to call our travel agent and I guess there was a mix up with flight times, or something."

Or something. My sister Samantha is absolutely impossible to please. I feel sorry for Thomas, I really do. Poor kid doesn't know what he's getting himself into.

"Oi! Tom! Have you seen Meg?"

"Nah, haven't seen her since this morning, Rog!" Thomas yelled back to a quickly approaching Roger Davies. I gagged to myself, instinctively grabbing Oliver's hand. Showtime. I put on my most satisfied face and turned to Oliver as though he'd just said something equivalent to a Shakespearean Sonnet.

"Damn. I need to tell her---Oh, hi Katie."

"Hmm? Oh, hey Roger."

"How are you?" Roger asked awkwardly. I smirked.

"Swell. And yourself?"

"I'm alright. So…have you tried the potato salad? It's delicious."

Weak. So weak.

"Mmm..nope."

"Oh. Well. You should."

"I'll keep that in mind," I sighed impatiently, leaning against Oliver. Roger cleared his throat and turned curtly, stalking off, followed by Thomas, who grinned back at me. I waved and then began to giggle madly.

"Did you see his face?" I asked Oliver. And when I turned to look at him, he wasn't laughing. He was smiling softly at me, and I was about to ask why. But I didn't get the chance, because right then he leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on my mouth. I have to admit, I was caught completely off guard. I gasped, pulling away.

"Sorry," Oliver said, clearly embarrassed. I touched my mouth in disbelief.

"It's fine," I mumbled.

Oliver blushed and hung his head, and I would've said something, but unfortunately, my sister chose to appear at this time.

"Hey Katie! You know the food table is right over there, in case you were still looking for it!" Samantha said loudly, giggling at herself. I smiled back.

"Hey Samantha, you know Roger's right over there, if you're still asking for it," I replied coolly. I heard Oliver sputter over his drink beside me.

Samantha smiled icily, and I waved at her. Yeah. Buh-bye.

"So about that kiss…"

Oliver frowned.

"Do you want to try that again?"

"Try what?"

I giggled, closing me eyes and placing a soft kiss on Oliver's lips.

**-----------------------------------**

**Hey Guys! Sorry, I know its been a really long time! I just got all your reviews yesterday (lost the password to my old email), but just to let you know, this story will now be updated regularly! I LOVE YOU ALL.**


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